One Shot
by TheOncomingStorm1982
Summary: A short story that just crossed my (admittedly) funny odd mind and that absolutely should not be taken seriously ;-) BTW - I don't own anything and most definitely not Benedict Cumberbatch! (this part always make me quite sad...)


**ONE SHOT**

**Chapter 1 - A ****thinly veiled masquerade**

It was a through and through nasty, cold and gray Monday morning. It was snowing - yet again - but the snow did not lie in the street, but immediately turned into slush. It was quiet this morning and in the paper shop where I worked was not much to do. I had the morning shift that I always - except before holidays - coped alone and was bored almost to death.

I had already done all my work and out of sheer desperation, I even vacuumed and dusted (something, that I actually loathe). Now I had no further choice than passing my time for the next one and a half hours and still hoping for one or the other customer to enter the shop.

An hour later, I was just about to re-order the magazines on the shelves, when suddenly behind me the shop door was pushed open. A strong gust of wind swirled a blast of cold January air and stray snowflakes the size of cotton wool inside. I politely turned around, threw the potential customer a quick glance and a friendly smile and simultaneously hummed a cheerful: "Einen wunderschönen guten Tag!"  
I wanted to look away again, but hesitated and looked again more closely at the man in front of me.

There he stood. Clearly and unmistakably! I just saw him on the cover of a glossy magazine, and now he was in full life size six feet away from me.  
He wore a slightly worn jeans, his black Belstaff motorcycle jacket with a gray wool sweater underneath and a shirt under it, a gray flat cap and his nerdy glasses that would have looked just ridiculous at any other man but him. In one hand he held a brown overnight travel bag made of leather.

He looked at me for a long moment from top to bottom and took a hesitant step closer. His tongue flashed for a nanosecond between his sensual lips before he took a breath and began to speak.

"Sorry, but I don't speak German." He said with his baritone voice, and gave me an apologetic smile. I returned the smile and tried to hide my nervousness as much as possible behind it.

"Yes, I know. Well, I was expecting to see you in August on stage in London, but definitely not in January here in the probably most insignificant village in all of Germany! Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to see you!"

For a moment he was completely rigid and the astonishment was clearly sculpted into his beautiful face with the high cheekbones and piercing blue-green eyes. I was wondering on my own coolness, while my counterpart seemed to just have lost his.

"Hi Benedict, or should I say Mr. Cumberbatch?"

He held his breath for a moment and shrugged his shoulders eventually.

"No, Benedict's alright! Uh..."  
"Natalie."  
"Natalie." Benedict let the name melt on his tongue as if to taste it. "A beautiful name and one I do not hear too often. Hello, Natalie."  
"Hi. Erm.. I don't want to seem impertinent, but what are you doing here?" I asked as I put the magazine that I was still holding in my hands back on the shelf.

Benedict Cumberbatch: Brit actor, superstar, nominated for an Oscar for best actor, heartthrob - who recently became engaged and shortly after that announced the pregnancy of his fiancée - was speechless for a second time in just two minutes.  
He opened and closed his mouth several times and seemed to search desperately for a suitable response or even a lie - and finally gave up.

"Hiding." His shoulders slumped and his face took on a very miserable expression.  
"From what or whom?" I asked and put my hands in my pockets.  
"From everything and everyone."  
"I see." I said and smiled knowingly.  
"No, you don't."  
"Yeah alright, I don't, but why are you hiding here of all places?"

He swallowed and even took a step closer. "Good question but not one to answer easily. Actually I just took the first available flight out of London. I've never been to Switzerland and I thought it would be a nice idea."  
"But you know that you're in Germany here, right?"  
"Yes. It was not really planned, but as so often in life you cannot plan ahead every detail exactly."  
"Well, technically you can, but the outcome of your plans remains to be seen."

"I see the two of us understand each other." He said, grinning. The first grin to even reach his eyes and make them sparkle mischievously.  
"Brilliant, isn't it? But, honestly, what can I do for you? If I can do anything at all that is." I asked, cocking an eyebrow expectantly. Benedict did the same to me.

"Well," he began, looking frantically around the room until he had apparently found a suitable excuse "for the beginning a pack of cigarettes would not be bad."  
"Didn't you recently stopped smoking?" I replied mischievously, but turned away at the same time to go to the cigarette shelf behind the sales counter. Benedict only let out a slightly annoyed growl.

I smiled to myself and grabbed unerringly into the shelf to place shortly after a pack of Marlboro Light on the glass counter. I looked at Benedict - who now stood directly in front of the counter - hopefully in the eyes and smiled. His eyes widened for a moment as he saw the cigarettes.

"How did you know?" He asked in amazement.  
"I didn't! A shot in the dark actually, but a good one though."

Benedict's eyes furrowed into narrow slits as he looked at me appraisingly.  
"You almost scare me a bit, Natalie!"  
"Oh you really don't need to fear me! I do this job here for ten years and just developed a feeling for certain things. To me you just seemed to be the _Marlboro-Light-Type_, that's all." I laughed and looked innocent in his blue-green eyes.

"And also you talk in _Sherlock _quotes..." "Point made!" I grinned at him. "That's my trademark and maybe my only gift."

We both fell silent for several seconds, just looking at each other.

"You're a _Cumberbitch_!" He eventually exclaimed, laughing, and immediately shut himself by pressing his right hand over his mouth.  
"But Benedict!" I said with fake indignation "I always thought you despise that term!?"  
"Sorry, I slipped out! When you hear this phrase often enough, then at one point it slides over your lips very easily."  
"No problem - but in my own defence: I'm not a Cumberbitch! I would rather consider myself to be a proud member of the _Cumbercollective_ instead."

Benedict was silent for a moment, and I wondered what had turned this normally casual and carefree type with the constant twinkle in his eyes into the shy and stiff with fright man in front of me. Actually he stood there like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car and obviously he did not quite know what to say.

"Don't worry, I'll let neither Twitter, Facebook nor any other social network know where you are! And I will neither ask you for an autograph nor a photo nor anything else. And I definitely won't start to scream or faint. Promised!"

He stared.

"Thank you," he then replied, sounding so honestly relieved that I had to laugh out loud and heartily.


End file.
